Another year another summit

You may recall that in August last year, his birthday month, MrFF took himself off to Wales to climb Mount Snowdon.  He stayed overnight at a youth hostel and came home with an awful cold, at least his hike was successful.

This year he decided to tackle Scafell Pike, the highest point in England, not so far away in The Lake District.  This time he booked himself into a decent hotel to enjoy after the climb so he left home at 6 am. I had a message at 9 am that he’d arrived safely and was just starting the walk.  I heard nothing all day, I expected a photo from the top or at least confirmation he’d made it, silence until around 7 pm when he messaged that he was back at the hotel and rushing for dinner.

It had been a hard day and he’d had to beg a lift from some other walkers back to his hotel as he couldn’t face another 1.5 miles of road walking after all the rocks and boulders.  However well rested next morning he could face a full English breakfast and spent a relaxing day in the Lakes, I got photos of both.

I think he found the walk quite a challenge, he’s been trying to conceal a slight limp since, so I am wondering if next year as he approaches 79 he plans to climb Ben Nevis.  The logistics of getting to the Scottish highlands and another day of stress for me might be too much, I’ll be almost 79 too.

Yorkshire Day

01 August is Yorkshire Day when those of us fortunate to be born and/or living in God’s own country celebrate everything that makes us who we are  

It also memorises the beginning on 1 August 1833 of the Slavery Abolition Act.  William Wilberforce, member of parliament for Yorkshire, had been instrumental in campaigning for emancipation, alongside other prominent Yorkshire abolitionists including Wilson Armistead and Richard Oastler.

In Ilkley, where we love to mark this event, this year we went so far as to make a weekend of it with The Grove where we have the bandstand and Betty’s tea rooms completely closed to traffic Saturday and Sunday.  There was food and drink, live music, family events, market stalls, Yorkshire flags everywhere.  Of course Yorkshire has a registered flag with the white rose of York and Ilkley has its own lady town cryer, we do things properly.

Thousands of visitors packed the streets in a friendly happy atmosphere.

The first three photos are from the internet, the last one my own 

High level horticulture

It is almost 12 years since we left Scotland and gave up the large organic garden we created. I often wonder what happened to the plants I sourced and listed in a notebook but really I don’t greatly miss the 3/4 acre heavily cultivated plot. 

Now I garden on the balcony off the lounge of our top floor apartment, it’s above the curved bay window.  Over the years I’ve added more and more plants.  MrFF did say the other day that looking after them was becoming a full time job but really it’s just watering in the hot weather, dead heading and a quick tidy, easy.  I always wanted a small but perfect garden. Now I have no excuse.

My plant repertoire has greatly changed. In Scotland I had a good collection of  hellebores, many rhododendron, species of primulas, trees and shrubs. Now I have summer bedding among the year round staples of ornamental grass and succulents, both the latter were new to me. Recently I’ve introduced scented geraniums and camomile to the lavender I already had to create an extra level of experience.

I really have nowhere to overwinter tender plants, it was a bonus this spring that a dahlia and a petunia reappeared.  I told MrFF he needs to invent a frost proof structure but really we have no space for such a thing so I have to accept that much as I love them some plants are dispensable.  Besides we do have a lovely local nursery within walking distance where I can restock and support local business. I could use fleece as protection but I also want the balcony to look attractive in winter.

It’s such a different experience shipping pots and bags of compost to the top floor,  our circular table is a storage box for such things, and repotting is a challenge often done at the kitchen sink.  

It’s a pleasure to be able to have such an undemanding garden and the time to sit out and enjoy it, but I always appreciate being in other peoples gardens and the effort they make to maintain them.   Of course I still get to do proper gardening and ruin my nails when we go to Italy, I haven’t quite given up on the hard labour yet.

Garden days

This week we spent a couple of nights staying with my brother and sister in law.  They live less than 2 hours drive away but we took a leisurely drive calling at an extensive and expensive plant nursery with a Michelin standard restaurant.  I treated myself and SIL to a scented geranium each.  We drove on to Helmsley where we hoped to lunch at the walled garden but it’s closed Tuesdays.   Instead we bought sandwiches and soft drinks and sat in the market square where MrFF admired the various motor bikes that stop there after riding over the moors. As he said they are all ridden by older and probably retired people, the machines far too costly for younger folk.

We didn’t do much at my brothers apart from talk a lot and eat a lot.  We watched the Tour de France and the football otherwise we were out in the lovely garden.  

My brother was up early each morning for strategic watering and I was happy to join him dead heading the many and varied containers they have.  

J

I particularly like this pig feeder in an area of the garden that reflects our farming heritage with old cart wheels and a vintage match plough, a skill for which my brother won many competitions and I and my parents spent many afternoons standing in a cold field usually on the windy wolds watching.

On the way home we stopped near York to visit and have lunch with friends.  They too have a beautiful garden, they are real plant people with collections of orchids,  carniverous plants and agapanthus.  They are also kind enough to home some of my more precious balcony and house plants when we are away including of course the Middleton lemons who have been repotted and are thriving.  

I was surprised but delighted to see how many plants had been away, I thought the balcony was going to be overcrowded so I left a skimmia for now.   In fact it looks just fine and our relaxing time away has convinced me that more is more.

And as if gardening and eating meals outdoors wasn’t summery enough back in Ilkley we had a brass band at the bandstand, a stall selling tea and home made cakes and an ice cream van. I love a proper English summer, I am so happy to be here.

My bicycle

My bicycle is one of these, a blue one, photo from the Claude Butler catalogue.  I bought it when I was in my mid 3Os, I am now 77 and I still own it. I can remember learning to cycle as a child,  it was a but like learning to swim, it seemed impossible until suddenly it wasn’t and you never unlearn.  

I have covered a lot of miles on this bike, regularly cycling 12 miles to work then back again, long rides with MrFF onto the North York Moors, Youth Hostelling holidays into the Dales and the Lake District.  I truly fell in love with my bike, I think MrFF is on his third model but I have been faithful to mine.

When we moved to Ilkley Claude came with me but languished with other bikes in a storage cupboard in our basement.  Whilst Ilkley has a large cycling population and one of the largest cycling clubs in the UK, the roads here are extremely busy, even the little back roads, I didn’t think I had the confidence to ride.   I remember seeing my bike just once over the last 12 years and thought it was in quite poor condition, I considered trying to sell it for renovation.  Then last week MrFF called me down to the basement, he’d taken my bike out of the cupboard and pumped up the tyres.  It’s actually in great condition and everything seems to work.  

Now I am wondering if I could manage a bit more pedalling even if it’s just round the quiet residential streets, I’ve never been afraid to dismount and push if the situation got tricky.  There’s just one problem.  I chose a bike with a man’s frame, it has a cross bar which maximises structural integrity and gives better handling.  In my prime I confidently threw my leg over the cross bar to mount, last week there was no quick swing of the leg.  I really struggled to get my leg high enough to clear the bar.  I can still touch my toes, I thought i was reasonably flexible, this was a bit of a shock.  This week when I am not watching the Tour de France you may find me hanging onto the furniture whilst practising swinging my leg high, take no notice.

Engineering solutions

The last week, our first week home, was mighty hot in the penthouse.  All the apartments open onto a central glazed atrium, where on the top floor under the glass the heat collects.  it’s been a constant 30 degrees outside our front door.   We slept with the balcony doors and our bedroom windows open to the outside but considered it a success if we got the room temperatures down to 26 degrees.

In the kitchen we have 2 ceiling fans 1 at either end and there is also 1 in our bedroom, they at least move the air about.  However the pull chords for these are all too high me to operate.  The resident engineer tells me they are standard length, for him maybe. I am told not to climb onto chairs or balance on the bed, reaching up while standing on a mattress without wobbling is quite a challenge.  I told him I have no alternative but I was wrong, MrFF showed me the answer was always there in the kitchen utensils jar.  I am now in full control of ventilation and pasta.

Annecy

After the tyre trauma we were back in the car next day driving to France for our two night stop near Annecy.   I was really looking forward to spending a day in the town, a 15 minute train ride from our apartment.  The day we arrived we’d made a slight detour to drive down the lakeside, it was well worth the extra travel time.  We passed beautiful alpine houses to arrive at the most turquoise water I have ever seen, it was almost unreal.  

The lakeside was busy but calm with people in and out of the water, Annecy is a smart and expensive town with very modern apartment buildings and a beautiful old town. We couldn’t wait to return for a proper visit, 

Next day was hot, 30 degrees, but we walked about 7 miles exploring the little canals, the chateau, parks and the lakeside.  The lakeside promenades were wide, the parks frequent and shady with lots of street taps for drinking water, boats of all kinds, lovely pavement cafes, it was all I’d hoped for and more, what a nice day we had. 

Breakdown

On our first day of travel Wednesday we were 2 hours from our first stop when we had a tire blow out on a busy dual carriageway.  We were able to get to a pull off where MrFF unpacked the rather full boot to get the emergency wheel,  jacked up the car, got the wheel nuts off but couldn’t shift the wheel.  All this with traffic speeding last and Lorrie’s wafting over our red warning triangle. I was standing for 3 hours behind the safety barrier amongst briars and all kinds of rubbish, there was no where to sit down.  Our breakdown cover was pretty useless so we phoned a local garage who put us in touch with a tire fitter. Eventually rescue arrived, the temporary wheel was fitted and we followed the mechanic back to the tyre shop where he said they had a used tyre to fit.  They wanted 150 euros for a bald not quite the right size tyre, we paid for the assistance and limped away on the replacement good for 50 miles at 50 miles per hour.  

After several phone calls, how did we cope before mobile phones, we located at Kwikfit Italia in Pisa what we needed.  They were fantastic, we got 2 new rear tyres, a shady place to sit and a gift of cantucci biscuits.  Instead of arriving at our hotel around 4 for a swim and a snooze we were there by 9 but we got dinner, the warmest of welcomes and later watched England win their first game of the World Cup with the family.  They’d put up the England flag for us and when Harry Kane scored the mama gave us both a hug.  Lovely people, we were restored after an awful ordeal that could have been a lot worse

Heading home

We leave tomorrow after 2 months in Italy.  We are at the usual miserable stage of closing down the house, packing while worrying about leaving the garden and our cat Olive.  I think we are both ready to go after all the usual weeks of work, gardening, roof repairs, painting, it’s getting hotter and mosquitoes are here.  So back to ilkley and our hopefully sunny little balcony that really cannot compete with this one

We have a night near Portofino tomorrow, two nights in Annecy and one in the champagne region, home on Sunday evening.  A heatwave is forecast in France and warmer weather in the UK.  

No mow May

This year I finally persuaded MrFF to stop mowing one of the areas of grass that he optimistically calls lawn. We’ve never in 22 years had anything like a decent lawn, without using hundreds and gallons of water and having a decent irrigation system not one they only covers small patches it’s impossible.  It’s also unnecessary. 

This year when we returned after he’d dealt with the knee high grass he settled into his routine of regular mowing.  After he’d cut the smaller higher area it looked like this.

I don’t think there is a blade of lawn grass in there, lots of dead couch grass, lots of live couch grass and some weeds.  Over the years we’ve tried to resow with suitable lawn seed, fertilised and applied weed and feed, all to no avail.  This year I told him it looked terrible and asked him to stop, cue heated discussion.  I eventually persuaded him to leave the lower larger area, it’s full of clover, pink, white and yellow and various wild flowers, maybe a few dandelions and other annoying weeds but I can live with them.  

The bees and butterflies are loving what I now call the lower meadow, it’s a joy to stroll down there and see the variety of pollinators feeding.  Not mowing apparently also increases the habitat for spiders, beetles etc and allows for deeper root development increasing drought resistance. It’s also saving MrFF effort and resources, I am not sure he is convinced but me and the environment love it.  No mow May and June are likely, in July and August we won’t be here, result. 

Olive is learning to knit socks

 

Behind the bombola

I’ve reached the stage of feeling happily back in control of the garden, at least I was until I watched Chelsea Flower Show on tv and realised there’s still a long way to go. 

The only area left to sort was behind the LPG tank, the bombola. Several years ago MrFF made a trellis to hide the front of the ugly and highly visible white tank, has no one thought of green.   Once the passion flower gets going it’s well hidden from the house and lower terrace.

I’d stalled on dealing with the area behind because it was totally overgrown with a tangle of dead ornamental grass, rampant weeds and another passion flower.  It’s tricky climbing into that area but my concern was there might be wasp nests or even snakes. I’d already come across a wasp nest about the size of a tangerine when cutting back other grass so I was wary mainly because I wouldn’t be able to make a quick exit.   

Anyway I finally got round to the work and happily there were no dangers waiting in there. I still have more to do but already it looks so much better. I really like seeing the wall again so I’ll try to keep control and just allow the passion flower to complement the stones. 

Dog Sitting

Our local Danish friend called by to ask a favour.  The family had planned a weekend trip to Germany and booked their two white sheepdogs into the rescue/vets from where they were originally adopted.  A few days before they were leaving they were told the rescue didn’t have room for them after all and as a last resort wondered if we would be able to help out for two days.  Of course we were happy to do so.

The plan was that the dogs would have access to the house and gardens, we’d get the key code for the gates and once each day top up their bowls of food and water, simple. However we were a little apprehensive.  We hadn’t seen the dogs for over a year and worried they might not appreciate strangers entering their territory. Bianca and Ellie are Maremma Abruzzese dogs traditionally used by shepherds to protect the flocks from wolves, quite protective creatures, quite big too.  The larger of the two weighs 45 kilos, about 7 stones, I weigh 9.

So we took full instructions and on the Saturday walked the mile to the house to be greeted by two large barking dogs jumping up at the gates.  Once we were inside they barked a bit more but calmed down when food appeared.  There were also treats for us to give them and a brush so I gave them a quick groom, that helped and pretty soon we were all friends.  

Next day we were looking forward to seeing them again, they didn’t bark at all and we spent time playing with them in the garden.   We really enjoyed being with such beautiful dogs, such a nice distraction that we have offered to do feed them again if it’s not for too long. 

Sad days

We are having a rather somber time in Italy following the death of two dear friends here.

Our lovely neighbour Giovanni died just after our return.  He was a true and generous friend to us.   Back in Ilkley MrFF always kept in touch sending Giovanni photos of his walks in the Dales but after Christmas Giovanni stopped responding. We received only a brief note telling us he was unwell.  It’s quiet in the mountainside  without him, as MrFF said we were used to waking early to the sound of him strimming his olive groves before it got too hot.  He gave us good advice on our olives and introduced us to the local mill though he was never much impressed by my flowers, if it wasn’t edible he wasn’t interested. 

On Saturday some of his family came from Rome to the house and kindly invited us to a pizza night to remember Giovanni. A regular occurrence in summer when Giovanni supervised the production of far too many delicious pizzas cooked in the outside oven and children and grandchildren arrived for the feast. This photo was taken when his wife Milena was still alive. 

Secondly a Danish friend with a house in a nearby village flew back to Copenhagen 3 weeks ago feeling unwell.  He was admitted to hospital and underwent a lot of  tests but sadly died at the weekend.   We didn’t know Knud that long but he was a kind and generous man who kept a beautiful garden.  We happily exchanged cuttings and he provided me with buckets full of marmalade oranges.  

Quiet days with much reflection, I keep gardening immersed in my memories of two very different men who both loved to grow things.

Ruperto

Two days ago Ruperto was sick after his breakfast and spent most of the day quietly in the cat apartment.  Next morning he didn’t appear at the terrace door when I opened up.  Since our return a week ago today he’d be there before I got the door unlocked, rolling on the mat delighted to see me.  Later that morning he came out and drunk water which I took to be a good sign.  In the afternoon I couldn’t see him in the apartment, we keep the door fastened slightly open so only cats can enter.  I searched the house and garden he was nowhere to be seen.  Today I opened the apartment door and he was there right at the back tucked under the pillows, he was dead.  

It’s shocking that he died so quickly after surviving 5 months without us.  We didn’t even have a week with him when we returned but we did give him lots of love and the best care we could during his short life.  We are so sorry this has happened.   

Back to Italy

 We arrived back at our house in Italy Thursday evening.  Already the tedious journey that started badly when MrFF couldn’t open the car to add the final packing on our morning of departure.  We’d risen at 5.30, it was a tense half hour or so until he heard a little click, was able to open the boot, unpack the car and crawl through to the front. The fault turned out to be a mix up with keys and low battery in the fob, the manual key didn’t work at all. I might have pointed out the battery situation when the trauma began but my advice wasn’t well received.  We took spare batteries and didn’t lock the car at all en route even when dashing to the toilets at services. On the ferry MrFF replaced the battery. We prayed we wouldn’t be the ones at Calais who couldn’t open the car, we weren’t. However there was another problem, MrFF discovered that neither of the keys he had was the one he regularly uses and the one to which he had attached the door key for Italy.  We always enter and exit via what was the garage next to where we park our car, it’s handy to have it on the car key ring.  It wasn’t a major problem, he had all the keys for the many doors, gates and grilles and we knew Mario had a garage key.  He was waiting by the roadside with it after we messaged him.  So now we can spend a couple of months wondering where the usual key with the house key attached is.

It’s lovely here, sunny and warm with cooler evenings when we light the stove for a couple of hours. Ruperto aka Nigel, the youngest kitten last year, was here when we arrived.  A little shy but by next day he was happy to be petted and fussed.  Next morning we thought it was his brother Umberto/Brian who turned up looking a little porky.  It was in fact the mother Olive, she’s probably pregnant.  We’ve also been visited by two strays who arrive like clockwork at the time the auto feeder opens. They’ll be disappointed now it’s not in use and our kitties get personal service. 

As ever I am busy sorting the garden and ignoring the state of the house.  Everything seems quite advanced this year,  it’s delightful.

Spring depart

At last it feels springlike on my walks.  Plenty of people out in their fiercely manicured garden with lawnmowers, hedge cutters and leaf blowers, de rigour in this affluent town.  I have mixed feelings about these overly tended gardens. They do have beautiful specimen trees and shrubs, we are well stocked with showy magnolias, camellias and the like but to me they speak as much of wealth as gardening skill or enthusiasm.

I was delighted to see the woods are full of bluebells, they are particularly spectacular this year and lovely hawthorn hedges are in full flower.  I much prefer this kind of wildlife friendly hedge to the knife edged sterile evergreen pruned versions.

Maybe I am being unkind. I expect the owners get a lot of pleasure from their immaculate gardens and it’s good they work in them. I prefer something a bit more blousy and untamed, something more like me. 

So now that spring is here we are leaving.  On Monday we catch a not too early ferry and will spend a few days in France and one in northern Italy before reaching our house next Thursday. I have some anxiety about the fuel situation and really hope that if awful the war continues we don’t get stuck in Italy.  We hope to be back in Ilkley late June.

New books

It’s very rare for me to buy new books. My local library is a delight when we are in Yorkshire and I always stock up on charity paperbacks to take to Italy, returning them read to pass on to friends or back to the charity shop.  The many books we have in the penthouse are mostly non fiction. 

However recently I’ve had two new book experiences.  Firstly I reserved a library book which when I went to collect was a pristine brand new hardback.  I told the librarian that it was a lot of pressure for me to be the first to read it and also to take care of it, I did manage not to damage it.  Not always the case.  When I worked in Edinburgh I used the glorious central library which wasn’t too far from my office. I had taken out a sizeable brand new tome on organic gardening.  One morning I put it in my work bag to return, tucked in beside my packed lunch.  Sadly the latter had attempted an escape and a ripe peach squashed itself against the fore edge, the opening edge that isn’t the spine, of the book.  Of course I owned up at the returns desk, it really wasn’t that bad but they made me pay the full purchase price of the book then handed it back to me.  Lesson learnt.

Secondly this week I received as a gift a brand new book, below. My lovely neighbour had left it gift wrapped on my door step as a thank you for a bit of knitting I did for her.  It was such a nice surprise, a beautiful looking book with great reviews and best of all brand new but without responsibility. This is such a special treat for me and I will look after it.

This is not an April fool post

Some days I feel my latest decluttering exercise is making little progress. Charity donations have been made and I sold a few items on eBay but three Emma Bridgewater mini mugs and a Scottish pottery tartan cup and saucer haven’t released a lot of shelf space. 

MrFF has been regularly badgered to sort through the collection of 200+ CDs that we have not had the means to play for the last 11 years.  His modus operandi so far is to take 30 off the storage rack, put them in various piles round the office and think about them.  12 have so far been released to the charity shop. I mentioned how pleased they were to have them, sadly that didn’t motivate him to send more.

This week our hardly used now vintage arctic grade sleeping bags were brought down from the loft, photographed and offered for sale.  That’s great except they are now in the lounge awaiting a buyer, please consider them if you are venturing into the frozen wastes any time soon, they are lovely.

However this week my mindset has been completely changed.  I was browsing property for sale in our Italian village which you might think is an interesting and possibly inspiring thing to do, you’d be wrong.  These are two of the sales photos from a detached semi rural property with a reasonable asking price. 

I cannot comprehend how the vendors expect to sell their over cluttered hardly visible house looking like this or why the estate agents don’t explain the bit about putting personal stuff out of sight.  Either way I feel a whole lot better. 

Division of labour

This is how last Saturday panned out. The alarm went off before 7 am as MrFF needed to catch 2 trains to get to the start of his group walk.  I had set the breakfast table the night before and left out a chocolate bar and home made banana bread for his snack, lunch was at a pub in Howarth.

He brought me a cup of tea to bed and I read for an hour.  I got up, stripped the bed and started the first load of washing.  After my breakfast I did the second load of washing, emptied the dishwasher and had a quick dust and vacuum round the penthouse,  I then returned the quite heavy patio planters and furniture back to their positions, MrFF had moved them the previous day to apply an organic cleaner to the porcelain tiles.

After I remade the bed I went for my 7 mile walk picking up some fruit and vegetables in town on my return. My late lunch was a piece of banana bread and a yoghurt, after which I did the ironing.

MrFF was home just after 5 pm, we chatted for a while before he went for a shower.  I started preparing dinner when he came to sit in the kitchen with a beer and the newspaper. When I mentioned it must be nice to spend your day walking twice as far as me, doing nothing else then take it easy till fed.  He replied well what do you want me to do.   He was lucky he didn’t end up wearing his dinner.

cartoon from internet